Calibre
by LadyChatonLa'mour
Summary: Wesley has a new trainer, known only as the Gymnast. She trains him, but Wesley feels he isn't the only one being left in the dark. Rating will change to M later on.
1. Dobraye utro

Disclaimer: I do not own the movie Wanted, or any of it's characters, only The Gymnast.

Calibre

It's almost insane how often Wesley got his ass kicked on a daily basis. The Repairman. The Butcher. Then Recovery. Then the same routine again. But today was different. Fox was quiet. Well, quieter than she usually was. She was sitting with him in Recovery. He'd just woken up.

"We have a surprise for you today."

Wesley blinked, getting the last of the candle wax out of his eyes. "I have a feeling it's not the kind of surprise I'll like."

Fox smiled a little bit. "Because it isn't. You have a new trainer. Get to the textiles in ten minutes and you'll meet her.", she said simply. She stood and walked out, not waiting to hear his response. Wesley just merely sighed, sitting in the boiling water.

Ten minutes. He was always a little bit early when it came to Fox. Mostly because, well, he didn't want to get his ass kicked more than was nessecary. Though she wasn't alone today. There was another woman with her, slightly shorter, and all he could see of her was the tan trench coat she had on and her black and blonde highlighted hair. Fox looked up and met his eyes, making a small motion with her hand to summon him. Wesley made his way over quietly, and nodded to his trainer.

Fox gave a small smile. "Wesley. This is your new teacher, The Gymnast."

The woman turned around and now Wesley could see her. She was pretty, with sweet features. Her golden eyes had a thin outline of black eyeliner, pink cupid's bow lips and a tan complexion. The pale blonde highlights he'd seen from the back of her head were strategically placed yet somehow random. She was thin from what he could tell, and she came up to maybe his chin. This lady was going to train him?

She gave him a smile, and offered her hand. "Hi, Wesley. Don't worry, I'm not going to beat you too bad like the rest of these bullies do.", she said with a voice like a light bell. The Gymnast looked back to Fox. "So. Where's my room? This kid'll be fun to work with."

Fox smiled her signature smile again, and motioned for them to come with her. Up the stairs to the top floor, where he could overlook the entire compound from just the window. The Gymnast liked what she saw up above their heads. Rafters. Lots of good points in this room. Fox took her usual seat in the corner to watch the festivites.

"Wesley," the Gymnast said, "I've seen how you perform when fighting. I've heard from Fox that you are doing wonderfully. But you focus too much on avoiding being hit just by dodging. Well, I'm going to teach you something different. How to avoid attacks completely and come at your opponent without being seen. You have to be quiet. I know it's hard, I know. When your adrenaline is pounding it's hard to be quiet. But you'll learn. I'll teach you. By the end of it all, a falling leaf will make more noise than you. Being an assassin is about more than getting to your target to kill them. You also have to get away when everything's said and done. Please mind you this will only be if you HAVE to get close. Most jobs you can do from far away, but we all get the occasional job where we have to get close. It sucks."

She sighed before tossing her trench coat to the corner of the room and taking off her shoes. She was wearing a small pair of black flats that led up to her leggings. A long red tank top covered her torso down to about the middle of her thighs. "I'm going to teach you to use every part of the room EXCEPT the door to get out. We'll focus on that first, then eventually move on to using the room to attack."

Wesley almost gulped, and did himself a favor by taking off his shoes and the oxford sweater he had on. He could see right then that he'd be sweating a lot and he did not want to get his father's sweater all nasty.

This was going to be an interesting day.

Almost three hours after his meeting with the Gymnast, Wesley was back in recovery. He sighed, letting the hot water and candle wax do it's thing for him. She'd been telling him the truth when she said she wouldn't beat him as bad as the others, but she had beat him. Mostly when he'd missed something incredibly simple, such as climbing on a desk to get to a rafter and out of her reach or using a coat rack to jump down onto the floor. He'd been surprised when she started throwing things at him, but she'd rationalized it by saying that someone in a panic would use whatever they had on hand as a weapon to keep him at bay if even for one or two more seconds. The dictionary had left a pretty little mark maybe half an inch from his temple. But he breathed deeply and relaxed for the time being before he was called to another fight or more training.

"Hey, Fox. Where's Cross? I havn't seen him since I got here and he's usually the first one to greet me."

Fox stopped rubbing her gun and looked at her long-absent friend. "Cross broke the code. He left. Killed another on his way out too."

The Gymnast looked at her with raised brows, her gold eyes clearly confused. "Well that doesn't make any sense.", she muttered. Cross had never been one to do anything without good reason, let alone break code. No one broke code. She looked back down at Fox and sighed. "Well. He was a great man. I feel sorry for whoever has to hunt him down. They've got a fight coming their way."

"That's why we brought you back," Fox said quietly. "You're training the person we're getting to kill him."

The Gymnast looked down again, but not so much in confusion this time as in shock. "Wesley? No, that won't work. Fox, he's far too sweet-hearted to take Cross out. You'll get him killed."

Fox blinked, deciding it would be best for her and Wesley to not know the truth just yet. "No. He'll do it, and he'll succeed. Just watch."

Her friend closed her eyes and shook her head. Now she didn't feel so good about training the kid. There was something they weren't telling her. She could tell that much.


	2. Kak pazhivayete?

Disclaimer: I do not own Wanted or any of it's characters, only the Gymnast.

I am so excited by how many people have put this story on their alert list! I hope I don't dissapoint you guys!

Calibre: Chapter 2

It was a new day and there were things to be done. But there were always things to be done, and it wouldn't hurt to leave them for a few more minutes. The Gymnast sighed as she sat on the roof of the compound, watching the sun rise above the dirty skyline of the city. Music blared in her ears, and her mind was racing a million miles a minute. Reflecting mostly on her newest student.

Wesley was a sweet kid. She liked him already. Even bruised and bloodied, he was also not all that bad on the eyes. The sweat that had been clinging to his shirt only had given her an idea of what was underneath, but what had really captivated her attention were his eyes. They were the lovliest shade of green-blue, and it almost felt like she'd seen them before.

His determination was something to truly be admired. He never gave up, even when the situation looked hopeless. He kept on fighting until told to do otherwise, and even then he was always the one to deliver the last blow.

She looked down to her watch as it beeped. Five AM. She was just now supposed to be waking up, but that had been an impossibility as of late. She stood now, in the harsh orange sunlight, and dissapeared beneath the shadow of the building to the interior of her room. It looked just as it had after she cleaned it yesterday. Silently, she stepped out of the room, and made her way to Cross' room. That had been her second train of thought.

She opened the door, expecting to find an empty room. What she found, however, had been quite the opposite. Wesley stood in the room in only a pair of black sweat pants, his hair and skin wet as if he had just come out of a shower. He looked over to her, confusion quite clearly written on his face.

With a slight cough, she averted her eyes to his face instead of staring at his chisled torso. "Good morning. Any reason you're in this room?", she asked, her voice betraying her embarassment and, shamefully… her slight arousal.

Wesley blinked and looked around for a moment before looking back at her. "Yeah… this is my dad's room."

Now it was her turn to be confused, but she shook it off. "Oh. Alright. Well, come with me. We're going to get some good food in you before we start your training. You're mine today.", she finished the sentence with a wink. The young man in front of her nodded, pulling on a low-necked blue sweater and following her out. He was wondering if she was going to change before they left. What she was wearing was slightly… innappropriate for the public eye.

The Gymnast grinned, thinking the same thing. A pair of black boyshorts and a lavendar camisole was all she was wearing, with her wavy hair disarrayed by sleep and her face free of makeup. Everyone in the order had already seen her in worse condition when she was first initiated, but Wesley had been absent those four years ago.

When they came to her room, she removed a small piece of pencil lead from the hinge of the door before going in and allowing him to enter. "A security precaution. No one knows it's there, so if I come back and it's broken, I know someone's been in here."

"That's actually pretty clever.", Wesley said with a grin. Security-prone, this girl was. He followed her in and sat in a chair as she went behind a screen by her bed. "Black or white?", she asked from behind it. He could clearly hear her opening and closing drawers. "Umm… white.", he decided randomly.

"So, Wesley. What was it like before you came to the order? What did you do?"

Wesley shifted in the chair as he looked around. "I was an account manager for a big banking company. Cubicle, nine to five, horrible boss. Only good thing was that I got to work with my best friend."

"Well, at least that's a plus, right?"

"Not really, seeing as how he was banging my girlfriend."

The Gymnast shook her head, slipping on a pair of white shorts. "People suck. I hope you dumped both of them."

"Really had no choice when I came here. But what about you? How long ago did you come in?", he asked, turning his attention to a picture on her desk, a picture of her and Cross on the train he so often was dragged on by Fox.

She paused, licking her lips and exhaling. "I was a backup dancer for a friend of mine's band. She had a lot of talent, but the record label went to her head. She changed into a different person, a diva. So I said my goodbyes and moved to the city, looking to start over. I had a job at the local gymnastics studio making just enough to get by. An incident occurred in a back alley, and that's when Fox found me and brought me in. I went through the same training you did, and a little more that I had assigned myself. So usually when it comes to up-close and personal jobs, they come to me. I was on assignment in Cancun when I get the message: Get your ass back up here, we have a student for you."

Wesley smiled slightly, and was tempted to ask what the incident that brought her here was, but he was unable because that's when she came out from behind the screen.

The white shorts she had on were only slightly better than the underwear she'd been in earlier, and it revealed that her legs were just as tan as her face. One of the advantages of getting assigned to Cancun. The lower section of her abdomen showed in a white short-sleeved hoodie, and he could see the pink camisole peeking out from the edges of the hoodie. She'd thrown her hair up into a ponytail and put on a little eyeliner, but that was it. Pink and cork wedges adorned her feet, revealing the anklet tattoo she had on her right ankle. The charm was a small rose in front of a cross.

"So. Let's go get some food. The food here sucks. But, odd question, do you know your ex's usual route to work or whatever she does on Friday?"

Wesley blinked, nodding slightly. "Y-yeah… why?"

She just grinned, putting on a pair of rimless D&G sunglasses. "You'll see. What kind of car do you like? Dodge, Chevy, vintage or new, that sort of thing."

The young man smiled slightly, thinking of the Viper that Fox had brought him in. "Definitely those new Camaros. They look really good."

"Specific color?", she asked, pulling him to his feet. He thought for a moment, then his smile spread. "Green. Poison Green."

The Gymnast smiled broadly, looking at her watch. 5:45 with a half hour walk into the city. She chuckled, and offered her hand to him. "Let's go get a Camaro then."

Hope to see some reviews!


	3. Yzumitelno!

Disclaimer: I do not own Wanted or any of it's characters, only the Gymnast.

Alright! Chapter 3! So excited! Thank you to all who read! I hope I don't let you down and you continue to enjoy!

Calibre: Chapter 3

The walk into the city was pleasant, the air pleasantly dry compared to the uncomfortable humidity of the past week. The Chevy dealership on the outskirts of the city square was open early, and with some sweet words and "accidental" pen dropping, a car was lovingly borrowed to the nice couple who had come in early. Posion Green '09 Camaro, as promised. Theirs for two days.

The Gymnast tossed the keys to Wesley, hopping in the passenger seat with one last wave to the salesman. Wesley couldn't keep the smile from his face as the V-8 SS purred beneath him, the steering responding obediently to his turns and the gas roaring when he needed it to do so. After around fifteen minutes of driving- and standing out in a crowd of white, silver, and black cars- they pulled into the parking lot of a Starbucks that was across the train stop.

Wesley's teacher looked at him and smiled when she saw his happy expression. They didn't get to have much fun with their job, so these occasional days off were absolutely wonderful. Almost better than vacation. "Careful, kiddo. Smile too much and your face might get stuck like that.", she said with a laugh.

"Sorry," he said with a laugh of his own, "This is just turning to be the best day I've had in a long time."

"Well, sweetheart, it's just getting started. Is this where your formers get off?", she asked, taking a seat by the window. She'd taken to calling his ex and his former best friend his 'formers'. It was appropriately put.

"Yep, in about five minutes.", he said, taking a seat across from her. The plan had been to show his ex just what she was missing, and his friend what he was capable of. "But I have to ask. Why did you borrow the Camaro for two days instead of one?"

She took a sip from her coffee, and set it down, moving the glasses to her head. "Because if I had gotten it for only one, we'd have to return it at 6 tonight. And we need something awesome to drive tonight. I told you, this day is only getting started."

Five minutes passed easily before the train came to a loud, screeching stop across the tracks. At the moment, Wesley was making sure to follow his teacher's instruction to put some whipped cream from his drink on the corner of his mouth. When the moment came, about thirty seconds after his ex and friend got off the platform, she leaned forward and slowly licked it off, making sure to kiss his forehead before sitting back in the chair.

Wesley's breath caught in his throat, having her that close to him. He could smell her perfume, feel the small brush of her bangs on his face, and not to mention view he got of her neck and shoulder. He could feel the blush creep to his face, his heart skip a beat, and his hand moving to her wrist as she moved back, interlacing his fingers with hers. He didn't even care about his ex's face, or Barry's for that matter. She gave him a little smile, nonchalantly waving to the two gawking pedestrians in the middle of the street who didn't even move until a car almost ran them over.

When they were gone, the teacher and student finished their drinks, then headed out. "Good performance, Wes! You should have seen their faces, it was priceless!", she complimented as they got in the car.

Wesley still didn't say anything, only started the car and let it rumble to life under his hand. "So. Where to now?", he asked, looking over to her as he rolled down the windows.

She didn't even skip a beat. "Shopping district. While I understand wanting to wear your father's clothes to feel closer to him, you need jeans. I can't even believe I let you out of the compound without a pair of jeans on."

He just laughed, heading that direction. She was right, though, all he had were his father's clothes, consisting mainly of oxford shirts, sweaters, and slacks with dress shoes. But it wasn't like Fox had given him a chance to pack his running shoes before snatching him at the pharmacy.

Meanwhile, The Gymnast sat quietly in her seat, thinking. She couldn't figure out why Wesley was put in Cross' room and told it was his father's. Cross didn't have a son, or at least he didn't to the best of her knowledge. They had told each other everything, becoming best friends quickly after her initiation. He was the only one in the order who knew her actual name.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by Wesley calling her, possibly for the third or fourth time, and gently putting his hand on her shoulder. His hand was warm, a warmth that seemed to crawl into her flesh. She smiled at him though, apologizing for zoning out.

"Are you alright?", Wesley asked, giving her a concerned face. She nodded again, setting a hand on his. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm fine. I zone out sometimes."

"Alright, you just looked really serious…", he said quietly.

She just laughed again and rubbed his hand. "I'm fine. Promise. Now come on, let's go shopping for you.", she said, hopping out of the car and waving over to him to come into the store. He chuckled and got out, alarming the car, and followed her into the store.

Four hours were spent shopping, and they made a break in the money spending- divided equally between both of them insisting to pay- to get lunch at a rooftop restaurant in the middle of the city. They'd successfully filled the car with bags of Wesley's new clothes (which isn't hard if you havn't seen the back seat of a Camaro. THERE IS NO SPACE.)

They were playing Truth or Dare and it was Wesley's turn to ask.

"Truth.", his teacher responded easily.

"How long did it take you to learn to curve bullets?", he asked, taking a bite of a burger he'd ordered.

She hesitated, licking her lips as she usually did when she was slightly nervous. "I never did. I can't curve bullets. That's why I specialize in getting close. I can shoot straight, I'm a good shot, but I can't curve bullets."

Wesley just looked at her for a moment. She smiled and shrugged it off, continuing as they ate and walked the rest of the day. At midnight, after refueling on coffee, they went to a nightclub called Purgatory that was having 'Angel Night', a night where all of it's patrons were to wear nothing but white.

And after three hours of drinking, dancing, and having fun for the first time in days, Wesley was officially out of gas. The Gymnast was as well, and they drove carefully back home. She walked him to his room, and he just barely got his shoes and shirt off before falling asleep into bed. The woman beside him chuckled slightly and kissed his forehead. His breathing was even and his face was flushed from the exertion of the day.

She looked at him for a minute longer before smoothing the hair back from his eyes. She leaned down to his ear and sighed quietly. "Terra. My name is Terra. Goodnight, Wesley.", she said with a smile.

Terra was on her way out when Wesley let out a small laugh in his sleep. "Goodnight, Terra."

She smiled and shook her head before walking out, making sure to close his door. She'd hear about all this tomorrow, but she didn't really care. She got to know her student and have fun while doing it. And whether or not he'd remember in the morning, he was now the second person that knew her name.


End file.
